Give Me A Reason
by prosfan
Summary: Songfic based on the Madness song of the same name. I just think It fits how I think James would be feeling after he found Zelinsky.Let me know if rating is ok.. Oh and "Eddie" is Robbie's grandson 'cos I didn't know what wether he had been named or born


Authors' Note: My ideas of how James coped with the events of the Zelinksy case. Set about a week after the events at Creavecour hall. This story is based on the song "Give Me A Reason" by Madness. The lyrics (in italics) are the property of Madness and I deserve no credit for them. It is available to watch on you-tube. I also sadly, do not own Lewis or its characters. This is a bit of a downbeat one, with a downbeat ending. Sorry.

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><p><em>Well we change from one extreme to another<br>Can you help me with my shame?_

I'm not hanging my head because I'm ashamed. Well I am. But not about what I did. I'm ashamed that I let you down sir. I'll never tell you that though. One minute I was calm, upset yeah sure, but calm. Next I was like a animal. I'm not too proud to admit it scared me. He knows that though. He must have felt me shaking when he made me sit down. I need to talk to him. I know I do. I just don't know how to start. I don't know how to explain how I feel about it all. It keeps changing.

_I didn't mean to when I kicked and punched  
>From nowhere this demon came<em>

I don't know what came over me. Zelinsky's gotten to me. I can't even remember what the bloke said. All I knew was that it was horrible. Disgusting. I saw red and laid into him. It must have been Lewis that pulled me off. That's why I was shaking. I didn't recognise my self. I turned something a copper should never be. A vengeful person. I wanted someone to pay for what he'd done to that girl. I wanted him to feel pain. The guy was one of Zelinsky's friends and that's all I knew at that moment in time. I don't know where it came from. What frightens me most is that I can't be sure I don't want it to come back.

_Forgive me for this mindless mood_  
><em>Accept this honest plea<em>

I look up apologetically at Lewis. He hasn't said anything and this worries me. I want to tell him what it felt like to find her, but I can't. I don't really have the words. I can only describe the guilt.

"I should have found her earlier sir" I mumble, this being the only thought that I can understand.

"You couldn't have done it better son, if its anyone's fault its that bastard Zelinksy's fault. Not yours"I go quiet, lowering my head again. It isn't working. I can feel the guilt eating away at me. I've felt this before. Creavecour. Will McEwan. Oh yeah, I've felt this before. Doesn't make it easier. I can't shake it. It took Lewis to almost go ahead and refuse to accept my resignation to help after Creavecour. It took almost dying to make any sense of the Will's suicide and my part in it. This isn't going to go away. She was a little girl. She needed me to save her. Will was an adult. He made his decision, however forced into it he was. Paul was a kid and there was no-one for him to tell. Zelinsky's victim...I was her only hope, her escape. And I fucked it up. I fucked up royally. Didn't get there in time and I might not even get her killer put away. I know that this time, I'm not on my own. Zoe Kenneth showed me that, she showed me who was there for me.

"Sir...How do I stop feeling like this?"

_Don't use me for the devil's food  
>And throw away the key<br>_

He doesn't speak for a while and I'm scared I've misjudged how angry he was. I don't know what I'm going to do if he tells me to get out. I can deal with the discipline. I'm not stupid, the guy I hit can and probably will scream police brutality. But I don't know how I'll react to Lewis' open hostility if he believes I'm the guy I portrayed earlier.

"Well for a start, you don't go beating up suspects sergeant! I mean what were you thinking?"

_Give me a reason so I've got  
>Someone else to blame<em>

I don't know. I don't think I did. Think that is. Sir don't you think if I had thought, then I wouldn't have done it? I hate people like that. People that kill kids. They're evil. You don't need to have been in the seminary to know that. But then why could Lewis control himself and I couldn't. Lewis is looking at me expectantly and I have to give an answer.

"I just wanted to understand why sir. And it...hurt when I couldn't"

_Give me the reason so I've got  
>Something else to blame<em>

I genuinely can't understand why someone would go and kill a child. I know my superior doesn't know either. That's the answer I need. I need something to make us different. I can't be like that bastard. There has to be something that sets him apart from me.

"Doesn't give you the right to lash out Hathaway." He's angry now.

"I should have been allowed to finish him. You shouldn't have pulled me off!" Why can't he see? Why can't the old fool see that Zelinsky and his mate deserve anything we throw at them. They need to be stopped. They'll only do it again when they get out. And if he goes into prison with an imprint of my fist on his face, who's going to care. Lewis' voice is soft now, I'm always wary of that.

"James, you can't just hit people because they did something wrong." What! Did something wrong?  
>"WRONG? THAT BASTARD, HE, HE...AND I FOUND HER!" I'm screaming at him, but I don't care. He's defending him. Now I'm in the wrong eh? One, ok 5 but all I did was punch...I didn't...I'm shuddering now, can feel tears in my eyes, can see the girl in my head.<p>

"Calm down son!"

* * *

><p><em>I only meant to wipe away the cries<br>__With the softness of my hand_

I look at the younger man sadly. I don't know how to deal with this. I don't have the answers that James needs. I was only trying to...I don't know. Help him? Yes, that's true but I'm no psychologist. I don't know how to help the young sergeant in front of me. I expected the anger, I never intended to make him angry, but I expected it. He needs to let these feelings of his chest. Everyone reacts differently. But finding the body of a young girl, I know that'll kill him if he lets it. And he will let it. I need to comfort him, to save him. But I don't know how.

"Look James, I can't pretend to know how it feels to find that."

"No. You can't" He's still angry. I know he's not angry at me directly, but the venom in his voice still hurts.

_I didn't mean to break the tie  
>I'm after all a family man<br>_

" But I know how these cases make people feel Hathaway." He snorts. "You aren't the first copper to deal with this and sadly, you won't be the last." I hate seeing him like this. He looks lost. He's like a child. He can't stop the brimming tears and suddenly all the fight has gone out of him.

"You didn't find her sir." he whispers to me, head down, tears dropping onto my carpet.

"No, I didn't sergeant." I lower my voice, I don't want to appear confrontational. "But don't you think every time we got that call back then, I thought of Lyn and Ken? Don't you think that every path report like that one I read, I see Eddie in the photo's instead of the victim?" He's looking at me again, apology in his eyes. I'm not angry at him. I just need him to see that we all feel it. He's not alone. Its normal to feel this. "I'm a dad and a granddad James. I lose my family for a second every time we're faced with a missing kid."

"I'm sorry sir." He doesn't need to be. I just don't think he realised.

_Give me a reason so I've got  
>Someone else to blame<em>

He's a lot calmer now, although there are still tears on his face. He still needs the answers though. There is hope and pleading in his eyes. He needs reassurance and he thinks I can give it to him.

"You're not like him James. The fact that you are sitting on my sofa, tears in your eyes and anger in your voice, that means you are nothing like him."

"But I could be. We were both humans. I could have-"

"No. James you are not and never will be, like that bastard. Don't you ever go thinking otherwise!" He nods and leans back on the sofa, breathing in deeply and blinking. I don't think he's really accepted this but I don't know what else to say.

_Give me the reason so I've got  
>Something else to blame<br>Give me the reason  
>Give me a reason<br>_

Times like this, I hate being the inspector. I hate the way the lad looks to me for answers. The way I must have looked at Morse at times. I don't have the damn answers. I don't know why bastards like Zelinsky do what they do. I don't know why people kill kids. I don't know why people are evil. And I hate not being able to explain it to the boy in front of me. Yeah, at the end of the day he is still a boy. He's not been in the job long enough to know how to deal with this. One day he'll learn. He'll become as world-weary and desensitized as me. That'll be a sad day. Despite his faults, its his feelings that make him a good copper.

_I am the master of this house  
>Don't try to run away<em>

No. I'm the superior officer, its my job to look after him. Oh, he tries to look after me. He doesn't know how. I know I'm an awkward sod, but he's no better. I only learn anything about him when it interferes with a case. Then its normally heart-breaking to watch him try and get on with it himself and not know how to help him. He gets up and takes his jacket off, grabbing his cigarettes out of the pocket. He heads for the back door, I think about telling him that if he's that desperate he can smoke in my house but I think he needs to be on his own. He's escaping in the only way he knows how, short of going out the door and running until he loses himself.

_I tried the same things at your age  
>And I was also made to pay<br>_

Its been 10 minutes. I gave him space but now I need to bring him back. It wouldn't surprise me if he'd jumped over my back wall and gone. I edge outside and see him. Sat on the floor, his head is tilted back against the wall. I shiver, its chilly, despite the warm weather during the day. I sit next to him and put my hand on his shoulder. It's supposed to be a gesture of comfort but he flinches.

"You're freezing James, come inside now eh?"

"I hadn't noticed." Even though he's shivering, I believe him. I sigh, how am I going to play this?

"Look, Despite how you're feeling now, you're not only one to have to deal with this. Hell, I was younger than you, first kiddie murder I worked on. Tore me up it did, Val was pregnant at the time. I bottled it up, didn't tell anyone, just like you're doing." He's turned to look at me now.

"What happened sir?"

"Damn near drove me mad. Kept seeing her everywhere. Nightmares the lot. You're having them as well aren't you?"He nods, dejected.

* * *

><p><em>Forgive me for this mindless mood<br>__Accept this honest plea_

Having nightmares? Understatement of the year. She's everywhere. I want to scream at her, tell her to fuck off, but she's just a kid. That and I have no desire to be committed. I must have given some sort of hollow chuckle then because Lewis is watching me. It's my turn to sigh now as I realise if I don't sort this out now, I never will.

"I keep dreaming about her sir. It always starts the same. She...she is lying in that cistern and as I reach down to check for a pulse she moves. For a second I'm ecstatic, I got there in time. Then she turns her head. The s-side of her face is decomposing sir. She sits up and looks at me. At first she looks sad. Then she gets angry. She keeps asking me why I didn't find her sooner, why I didn't try harder. I can only stand there as she screams at me." I close my eyes, swallowing as I feel the tears start up again. Lewis' hand hasn't moved from my shoulder and I'm grateful for it. "Then she starts crying sir. She huddles in a c-corner and sobs. All I want to do is cry with her. But I don't. For some reason it feels wrong. Then she asks me why I didn't care about her. What I had to do that was more important than finding her. I can't answer. I just watch as she cries her self to sleep. I hear sirens and got to wake her up, tell her that she can come home. But she's dead now. Really dead, she crumbles beneath my fingers. And then I wake up." He's watching me strangely. I can't tell if its compassion or pity on his face. He is silent for a long time.

"Sergeant, you need to understand that this isn't your fault. It doesn't matter what you did, you'd never have got to her in time. Laura's report showed she died on the day she went missing. Not even you, CID's boy-wonder, scould have put the investigation together that quick." I know he's right, but I can't feel it. "How often have you had this dream?"

"Every night since..I f-found her."

_Don't use me for the devil's food  
>And throw away the key<em>

He raises his eyebrow and I know he's thinking I should be in some sort of institution. I hope my face doesn't look as pleading as I think it does. I don't even know what I'm pleading for. Assurance? Yes. Forgiveness? Yes, although the only person who can forgive me is dead. Relief? From the sleepless nights and the terrors that keep me awake throughout them? Yes. He can't help, but I can see he wants to, that he's trying. I think the best thing I can do is go home with a couple of bottles of something obscenely strong and drink myself to sleep. Well no, its probably not the best thing I can do but I dearly, dearly want to. I think the man next to me has realised as well.

* * *

><p><em>Mister patience and Misses alike<em>  
><em>Upon and throughout the land<em>

I look at him and I know he's getting there. I know that look in his eyes as well. I've seen it in my own enough times. He's too young to have worked out that the answer isn't at the bottom of a bottle. I know it isn't but it'll help him for a short while. He needs a good nights sleep and if the only way he can get it at the moment, is to drink himself there, the he'll have to do it that way. I won't let him do it alone though. There's no way that he's going to wake up to his empty flat with a hangover and a guilt trip on his own. I've seen that before as well. All that does is make you drink more and frankly, his mind is too good to be wasted on something like this. I tap him on the arm and we both get up and go back inside. He slumps on the sofa and I go into the kitchen, preparing a scotch for us both. I think about it and then pick the bottle up and bring it with me.

_A lot of attention  
>With a heap of affection<br>__Wouldn't go astray_

There's only one way to get him through this. Keep him nearby, provide him with company. And Booze. Its better if there's someone to watch exactly how much he is drinking. Be there as his therapist (well someone to talk to anyway, don't think I'm anywhere neared qualified). Be there as his punch bag if needs be. He needs to talk it out, not with a psychologist sat behind her desk all day, but a fellow policeman, someone who's been there. Maybe he just needs someone to get drunk with. I dismiss this pretty quick, he wouldn't have turned up here, dripping and lost, if that was all he needed. He could have found that at the pub. No, he needs company and somewhere safe to stay.

* * *

><p><em>Give me a reason so I've got<br>__Someone else to blame_

I stare at the scotch that he's shoved in my hand. For a minute I consider shouting at him again. Telling him that this won't go away that easily, but then I realise he is doing his best to help in the way he knows how. I shrug, smiling weakly at him and down it in one. I don't even feel the normal burning sensation. I'm completely numb. Something is put into the crook of my arm and I glance down at it. The scotch bottle, still two thirds full. I grin a little, despite myself

"Sir? Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"Of course. How else are you going to get any sleep? Apart from the problem of dragging your scotch filled frame up to the spare bedroom" I snort, the old bloke is right, after all, I guess he's been here before. Drinking to forget, drinking to remember, drinking to sleep, drinking to stay awake, Drinking to hold it together. I finally get the courage to ask him what I've wanted to all night. The statement I'm so scared he can't answer. I swallow and he looks at me, waiting for me to speak.

"Sir..."

"Yes?"

_"Give me the reason so I've got  
>Something else to blame"<em>

* * *

><p><em>This is the reason, one of the reasons<em>

I've been waiting for this. He can't forgive himself unless there's another reason. In his world there is accountability. If there is no one else to blame, it falls to him. One so young shouldn't take the worlds guilt on their shoulders, especially considering his job. I think carefully about what I'm going to say. This could be the balancing point.

"I can't explain why he did it. If I could that wouldn't make be any better than him. He was a sick bastard James. Blame it on an unhappy childhood, unbalanced brain chemistry, whatever you want. He was just a sick bastard. He got pleasure out of it. And he deserves to be put away for ever for it."

I'm not sure if this has done the trick. Nevertheless, he stares at the now practically empty bottle of scotch, seeing it in a new light and sets it down on the floor. He gets up, giving me a watery smile.

"Good night sir" he says as he staggers up the stairs. Its only after I hear him close the door of the spare room, that I find the voice to answer.

"Night James"

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><p><em>I am the reason so I've got only myself to blame<em>

That wasn't a reason. Not a proper one. Even if he is just a sick bastard, I should have worked out what he knew. I'm a fucking detective, I should have worked out where to find her. I should have got there in time. She was just a kid, didn't deserve what she got. I punch my pillow in anger and stare at the clock, thinking, until I fall asleep, waiting for the nightmares to come.

* * *

><p><em>I am the reason so I've got no-one else to blame<em>

Its about 3am when I hear muttering from the room next to mine. He obviously didn't drink enough. Who am I kidding? He drank near enough a bottle of scotch. I failed. I couldn't give him a reason and now he's paying for it. If he goes down hill, it'll be my fault. I failed him. I'm the superior officer, I should have seen the warning signs, should have seen this coming. I should have been able to help him._  
><em>


End file.
